


What-ifs and Maybes

by Katie_with_the_Tea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_with_the_Tea/pseuds/Katie_with_the_Tea
Summary: Sooner or later, Harry needs to get over himself.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 53
Collections: 2020 Hinny Discord Incognito Elf Exchange!





	What-ifs and Maybes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Al-In-The-Air](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Al-In-The-Air).



> This is for Al-in-the-air, who said she wanted me to break her heart and make it back up again. I hope I delivered! This was so much fun to write and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you, too, to TheDistantDusk for organizing this exchange!

**Late June**  
Truthfully, a small part of Ginny had hoped that once Voldemort was gone, she and Harry could pick up where they left off - blissfully happy and generally ignored by her supportive family - and would be able to make good on the promises left unsaid before Harry left.

Now, Ginny would be happy to just have an hour alone with him, or have a conversation that had nothing to do with the ministry or aurors or the war. She hadn’t even seen Harry in days. He’d been dealing with the ministry and goblins and Death Eaters, and if she hadn’t heard from Ron or her dad how busy he was she might even assume he was avoiding her. She didn’t resent him for any of it, but she had hoped he’d have sought her out by now, more than two months after the largest obstacle between them had been eliminated.

In those early days, she often caught him looking at her, which gave her a small thrill - one of the few things that was able to cut through the grief of losing a brother and so many friends. His glances from across the Great Hall that morning had burned through her. She’d felt the intensity of his gaze on her like a sun beam and she had looked back, willing him to come to her and give her the excuse she needed to get away from what she felt was her duty to help. No one would deny him if he said he wanted to speak to her, but she didn’t feel like she could excuse herself to seek him out. She wished she had now.

They all returned to the Burrow heavy with grief. Ginny threw herself into helping her mother as much as possible - clearing away the layers of dust from their long absence, cooking what she could, planting and tending the garden. Anything to avoid how quiet the house was.

She had a few moments alone with Harry, though none were what she had hoped. Once, late at night when neither was able to sleep, she was already sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea when he came down looking like he hadn’t slept a wink in several days.

“Harry,” she said quietly. “Hi.” She offered a small smile, and felt it falter when he didn’t move or say anything. She cleared her throat and looked back out the window again into the dark garden. She watched his reflection in the glass as he moved around the kitchen preparing his own tea, and a minute later he was sitting across from her. It was several more long seconds before he said anything.

“I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk,” he said. His voice was hoarse, like he’d had to use it too much recently. Maybe he had. She turned to face him fully.

“It’s okay,” she said, because it was true. She missed him, but she understood. “It seems you’re quite in demand these days.”

Harry laughed weakly. “Stark contrast to the last several months, I’d say,” he said drily and Ginny grinned, glad to hear his sense of humor, at least, seemed to be intact.

“Are you doing alright?” she asked, concerned that maybe he wasn’t getting enough rest. It was after midnight after all, and he was here looking like he hadn’t slept yet at all tonight.

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifted a little and he let out a long sigh. “All things considered. Yeah, I guess. Feel lighter than I have in years.”

Ginny felt prickling behind her eyes and blinked rapidly. The relief he felt at it finally being over was palpable. She felt it for herself, too. “Good,” she said hoarsely around the lump in her throat. She smiled at him. “You deserve it, Harry.”

“I didn’t do it for me,” he said, sounding alarmed and Ginny had to laugh. There he was, her brave, noble idiot. She swiped quickly at her eyes and then reached for his hand.

“I know you didn’t, Harry.” She squeezed. “But you still deserve to feel this. And to rest.” A sudden yawn overtook her and she pulled back to cover it with her hand. “Which is what I should do, too, I guess.”

“Are you okay?” he asked her, leaning forward slightly, concern in his features.

Ginny shrugged. “About as well as I could be. Tired but can’t sleep. Happy it’s over, but sad I lost a brother. Trying not to dwell on what-ifs.”

“You and me both,” he said looking down into his mostly full mug.

“Don’t blame yourself, Harry,” she said quickly, reaching for him again. “We all made the choice to be there. We knew the risks.”

Harry’s throat bobbed up and down a few times, and Ginny wondered if he was going to say anything more. When he didn’t, Ginny let go of his hand and finished her tea.

“I should at least try to sleep a little tonight,” she said. She pushed away from the table. “You will too, yeah?”

Harry’s gaze followed her as she moved, she could feel it as she put her mug in the sink. She turned to face him, but he didn’t say anything. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face and Ginny wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but Ginny could feel a tension building that she wasn’t sure she was ready for at this hour.  
A few beats more and she began moving toward the staircase. She paused next to him suddenly feeling the urge to be near him. She whispered, “Get some sleep,” and dropped a kiss to the top of his head, caressing his hair. His eyes closed at her touch, but she backed away quickly, heart beating quickly and senses suddenly overwhelmed by him. “Good night, Harry,” she whispered and then rushed up to her bedroom before he could say anything more, wishing she was braver, hoping she would hear him call her back to him.

***

 **Early July**  
Ginny didn’t see much of Harry at all over the next few days. She hadn’t heard him return to Ron’s room, though it took her quite a while to fall back asleep. He was already gone the next morning, and came home looking dead on his feet. He collapsed on the couch and didn’t move until her mother called them all for dinner.

Today, Ginny was once again attacking the weeds in the garden in an attempt to keep herself busy and not dwell on the way she had felt Harry’s eyes on her that morning at breakfast. It wasn’t working. She should have said something to him, asked him when he’d be home today and if he’d be up for a fly or a walk. Or a snog.

The hot afternoon sun was beating down on her back as she made her way through the different vegetable beds. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to plant so many vegetable beds this year, but now she was regretting it. So many weeds. She had just bent again to attack the weeds in the bed of beans when she felt a shadow fall across her.

She looked up, recognizing him immediately despite the sun shining from behind him. Harry was looking down at her, and she brought a hand up to shield her eyes, thankful she could blame the sun for the heat she felt rushing up her neck. The familiar sensation of her heartbeat speeding up made her breath catch in her throat. “Harry, hi!” she said, sounding a bit breathless at the sight of him. Could she blame that on the weeding? “Come to help?”

Harry gave her a small smile and then shrugged before bending to kneel across from her. She smiled back and then put her attention back to the weeds.

“So where are Ron and Hermione this afternoon?” she asked to break the silence. That was another thing she noticed about him lately. He was rarely one to speak first, seeming to prefer the role of silent observer until he was spoken to directly. Ginny wondered if it was just because he was tired or something else.

“They’re at the ministry, getting things set up to bring Hermione’s parents back,” Harry replied as he added to their pile of weeds.

“They’re leaving soon, aren’t they? I’d have thought you’d want to go with them.”

“In a few weeks,” Harry said while nodding, and moved over to a new patch of weeds. “And I offered, but Hermione refused. Insisted I take a break.” He didn’t seem hurt by this, and Ginny wasn’t sure if she expected him to be.

“And what about Ron? He doesn’t get one?”

“I think as the boyfriend, no,” he said smiling up at her. Ginny laughed. No, Harry was probably relieved to not have to witness the early stages of Ron and Hermione’s relationship. He went on. “But honestly, she tried to convince him to stay too, but he insisted he wanted to help, even if all he was there for was emotional support. He didn’t want her to have to go through it alone, and managed to convince her to let him go with her in the end.”

“Wow.” Ginny sat back surprised. “I can’t believe he managed to convince Hermione. She’s more stubborn than he is.” Harry laughed, nodding. “I know Hermione’s given Ron a lot of grief about his emotional range, but he’s actually quite astute. Almost always knew how to cheer me up when we were kids.”

They fell into silence again, moving down the rows, putting weeds into piles for the compost. Ginny spoke again feeling a strange need to fill the silence.

“So, they’ll be gone for your birthday?”

“Not sure yet exactly. They’re leaving that week though, just not sure if it’ll be before or after.”

“Would it bother you if they missed your birthday?” Ginny looked up at him, blowing a stray hair out of her eyes.

Harry shrugged. “Not really. Hermione needs to go soon, if she wants to be back by the start of term. Besides, I don’t mind. It’s just a birthday.”

Ginny looked at him, contemplating, wondering what his birthdays were like before coming to Hogwarts. A wave of sadness rippled through her as she thought of it - she could picture him as a young boy, the excitement and then the disappointment when he realized no one cared enough to even acknowledge it most years. She’d heard stories from Ron, and they broke her heart.

“What, do I have dirt on my face?” he asked, and Ginny realized she was staring. He made to wipe with his arm, but Ginny shook her head, expelling the sad thoughts but not the desire to reach out and hug him.

“No, it’s just-” she paused and then sighed. “Well for one, now I feel guilty for being sad that they’ll miss mine,” she said with a wry smile. “But it always strikes me how differently you see things sometimes.” She shook her head and smiled softly at him before bending again to work.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. He used his want do banish the pile of weeds to the compost before starting on the next section.

“Well, growing up in our family, birthdays were always a big deal. It makes me sad that you didn’t have that as a kid.”

“Your mum has more than made up for it,” Harry said, and Ginny felt her heart warm as she smiled back at him. “I enjoy my birthday, now, and I will miss them, of course, but… I don’t know, my birthday’s not more important than what Hermione has to do, so I’m fine with it.” He shrugged again..

Ginny straightened and looked at him. “Well, Harry Potter, I promise to never miss one of your birthdays,” she said. “And to always make a big deal of it. At least in private.” Her heart was hammering as Harry lifted his head to look at her. She held his gaze, lifting her mouth into a smirk, a challenge. Would he take it? His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and Ginny felt a little thrill. Harry straightened his back and opened his mouth to speak.

“Ginny-” he began, but was cut off by the slamming of the door. Both their head snapped over to look and saw George storming toward them. George didn’t say anything but kneeled next to Ginny and began to pull weeds with a vengeance.

“Alright, George?” Ginny asked quietly.

“Fine,” he ground out, clearly angry or annoyed about something. “Just needed to get out of the house.”

“Do you want us to…” Ginny trailed off and George paused.

“No,” he said quietly, seeming to deflate. “You can stay. Just...don’t expect me to say anything.”

Ginny looked at Harry, knowing their chance had slipped away. He was realizing it too and they both gave a small shrug, and went then back to work alongside George. She and Harry chatted quietly about nothing of importance, and Ginny lamented another lost opportunity.

***

 **Mid-July**  
“Why did this seem so hard to do?” she asked him breathlessly between kisses. Harry had her pushed up against a tree in a secluded part of the garden. The bark was digging into her back a little, but she didn’t care. It had been far too long since she’d had his lips on her, and she felt like they were making up for lost time. It had only been a couple of days since the proverbial dam broke and Harry finally kissed her - catching her alone behind the broomshed - and they had spent nearly every moment of them together, talking, kissing, finding reasons to touch each other.

“What’s hard?” Harry was kissing his way toward her neck, finding that spot just below her ear that made her eyes flutter closed and her heart beat faster.

“I was…” she moaned as Harry found another sensitive spot. “Was just wondering why we could never find time to be alone before, and then for the past two days--”

“Mmhmmph,” was all the sound he made as Harry cut her off with a kiss. Ginny lost all train of thought, all ability to focus on anything except the feel of his hands in her hair, his lips on her skin, his hair beneath her fingers.

Eventually the fervor of their kisses slowed, and they finally got around to eating the lunch they’d brought outside with them. Harry laid out the blanket and they were quiet for several minutes as they ate. Every once in a while, Ginny would catch Harry looking at her with a quiet smile on his face, and she would grin widely back at him, sometimes making faces to make him laugh. She was happy. For the first time in months, Ginny felt hopeful that things would be good again.

“I missed this,” she said quietly when she’d swallowed her last bite. “I missed you.”

Harry, who had finished eating several minutes ago, shifted closer to her, pulling her into him with one arm. “I missed you too.”

“I wish we’d just told everyone to bugger off and leave us alone. We could have had all these weeks already doing this.”

“Seems to be a recurring theme, then. Wishing we’d done something sooner.”

Ginny knew he was talking about her fifth year. He’d told her once before, in different times, that he’d wished he had told her his feelings sooner.

“Well, let’s make it a point then to get right to it when something comes up. No more wasting time.”

Harry squeezed her hand. “No more wasting time.” He kissed her again, gently, and then asked her about her prospects for the quidditch team this year.

The rest of the summer passed much the same. Days spent lounging out in the garden, talking about everything and nothing. There were visits from Teddy and Andromeda. Plenty of scowling at sensationalized headlines from the press conference the ministry gave about the new changes being made to fix the damage done by Voldemort’s regime. They shared stories from their year apart, comforted each other when the grief overwhelmed them.

Hermione and Ron left to find her parents the day before Harry’s 18th birthday, which was a subdued celebration, about as lively as it could have been. But it was still a celebration. Ron and Hermione gave her her own presents, too, apologizing for missing her 17th, but she assured them she didn’t mind - because she didn’t - and waved them off with everyone else on that first day of August, trying not to remember how she didn’t get to say goodbye last year. This was completely different and both had promised to write as often as they could, which was something no one was able to do last year. And Harry was here with her. And they were safe.

She and Harry were lucky enough in the early days of August to find themselves completely alone one day. Parents and brothers off at work or visiting others. They shared a blissfully uninterrupted morning together, full of everything she had wished for on his 17th a year ago, but without the urgency, desperation, and melancholy she had felt then.

“I wish Ron hadn’t barged in on us last year,” Ginny said from her place tucked into Harry’s side. She was drawing patterns on his bare chest, enjoying the goose pimples that would rise on his skin as her finger passed over it. Harry was running his fingers through her hair and she felt more relaxed than she could remember being in a while.

“You and me both,” he said in a low voice, and she could feel the rumble of it in his chest. “That kiss got me through many lonely nights. I can only imagine what it would have been like to have more to remember you buy.” She could feel him grinning into her hair and she shifted so she could face him and gave him a cheeky grin.

“Well now you don’t have to.”

Harry laughed and leaned in to kiss her. “I never got to give you a birthday present.”

“It’s not my birthday yet,” Ginny said, confused.

“I missed your birthday last year.” Harry's voice was soft as he ran his thumb along her cheek, then moved his hand to caress her arm. Ginny felt his other hand moving slowly up and down her back, and she felt her skin erupt into goose pimples, too. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning in to kiss him again.

“What would you have gotten me?” she asked, when she pulled away. Harry had never given her a gift before, not really, and she was curious. “For my birthday,” she clarified with a giggle when Harry looked confused.

“Oh! I actually have no idea,” he said, and they both laughed. He looked at her seriously then. “I was a bit preoccupied by other things last year, but I’d like to make up for it this year.”

“You don’t have to get me anything, Harry.”

“I want to,” he said and then his tone shifted to something more playful. “And I think I have the perfect thing in mind”

“Oh?”

“Yep.”

“Care to share?”

“Of course not, that would ruin the surprise,” he said. “And don’t think you can get it out of me either.”

“Fine, I suppose it’s only a few more days; I can wait.” She rested her head back on his chest and wrapped her arms around him, smiling when he did the same.

They were silent for a while, and Ginny was just about to ask if he was up for a birthday fly, when Harry spoke.

“Gin?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Do you think breaking it off worked? Did it make you less of a target?” He said it quietly, as if he didn’t want to hear the answer. She shifted up again so she could look at him directly.

“Are you asking me if I think it was worth it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Memories of last summer flashed through her mind, how hurt she was, how much she missed him, how much she tried to think of a way they could still be together, but knowing it was pointless, then how angry she’d felt that it had to be like this. In the end, she knew that their circumstances last year were unavoidable. But worth it?

“It’s hard to know for sure,” she said finally. “Snape knew about us; so did most of the school. I definitely got questions about you. From everyone. Neville and Luna first, on the train; they were worried about you. Then some others in Gryffindor - especially the ones in your year. Once I started getting detentions I got questions from the Slytherins. Snape. The Carrows.”

Harry’s head fell back and he closed his eyes. “Harry,” she said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. His eyes opened and he turned his head to look at her. She kissed him quickly on the lips before continuing. “You need to remember that everyone knows you and Ron are best friends and that you’ve spent a good number of your summers with us. I’d probably have gotten questions about you even if we were never involved, just because I’m Ron’s sister.”

Harry was silent as he looked up at the ceiling of her room, but Ginny didn’t fill it. She knew he was trying to come to some sort of grips with the situation she’d been in at school last year. She still hadn’t told him half of everything that had happened, but he knew enough - why she still had nightmares, why it hadn’t been an easy choice to go back and finish in September.

“Logically I know all that,” Harry finally said, and then turned his head to look at her. “But I don’t like that us being together can put you in danger.”

“Harry, you can’t keep thinking like that.”

“I can’t help it,” he argued, sitting up more fully and shifting his whole body to face her. “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. You - you’re everything to me.”

“You can’t protect me all the time, Harry,” she said as she sat up too, starting to get worked up. “And I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know that. And that’s not what I mean - I just-” he stopped, ran a hand through his hair in frustration and then reached for both of her hands and gripped them tightly. “Gin, do you remember when you were dueling Bellatrix, and her curse just barely missed you?”

She nodded. The thought still chilled her, and she shivered.

“Tom was right there for me to fight, and I nearly ignored him to try to get to you. And I would have if your mum hadn’t got there first. The thought of losing you…” his voice wavered and he trailed off.

Ginny felt a tightness in her throat and leaned forward to kiss him deeply, crawling into his lap to be as close to him as possible. One of his hands came to cover hers on his chest and she flipped her wrist so she could tangle their fingers together.

“I know, Harry,” she whispered when they broke apart, looking straight into his bright green eyes. “But there are always going to be people out there who think they’re better than others, people who think we’re the enemy, people who value power and money over the lives of innocent people. And yes, people who might try to use me to get to you.” She squeezed his hand and kissed him again before continuing. “But I don’t care,” she whispered. “My eyes are wide open. I know what I’m getting into, and I’m choosing you because I love you” She searched his eyes, making sure he understood. “You are everything to me, too, and you’re worth having to deal with all that, okay?”

She didn’t break their gaze, and Harry’s eyes flitted back and forth between hers, before finally closing as he nodded. Ginny felt her body relax as Harry’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close again. Arms and legs tangled together as the rest of the morning slipped away into soft kisses and whispered affirmations.

***  
September

Saying goodbye to Harry on September first was harder than Ginny was expecting. She felt like they had only just found each other again and now they were being forced to separate once more. Harry felt it too, she knew, though he didn’t say much about it. She had to keep reminding both of them that it wasn’t going to be anything like last year. They got to say goodbye, in the first place, and they could write, and they’d see each other at Christmas. It might even be possible for him to meet her on Hogsmeade weekends, or watch her first Quidditch match as captain if his work schedule allowed for it.

“Promise you’ll write?” Ginny asked again on the platform, hating the weird panicked feeling in her chest. “You’re not like Charlie who says he will and then only manages a few sentences every few months?”

“I’ll write every week,” he said. “Whole paragraphs. Promise.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

She kissed him one last time as the whistle blew. She could hear Hermione calling for her and forced herself to pull away so she wouldn’t miss the train.

“Bye, Harry,” she said walking backwards, hand waved in a raise. He lifted his own, as Ron came up next to him, waving too. They watched as she turned and ran to hop onto the train as it began to move. She and Hermione stuck their heads out the compartment door and waved. Harry took a few steps forward as the train began to move. Ginny watched as the train sped away, putting more and more distance between them, until it rounded a corner. Then she followed Hermione to a compartment, finding Luna there already, and then spent the whole ride trying not to think about how much she already missed Harry and how hard and different this year was going to be.

***

 **Late November**  
As surreal as it still sometimes felt to be at school this year, so far term was about as normal as anything she had experienced at Hogwarts. She still felt a jolt sometimes when she missed faces of her classmates, or when she forgot, and walked through certain parts of the castle and was assaulted with memories of her brother. But eventually, things fell into a rhythm that was blissfully mundane. She’d wake up each morning, go to classes and meals and practice, write to Harry and her mother, sit with Hermione or Luna to do homework, or with Demelza to go over quidditch plays.

She felt the thrill of excitement every time she got an owl from Harry. Was a diligent correspondent, always returning her letters within a day or two, though he never said much. A few details here and there about work or the flat he and Ron now shared in London. He always signed his letters with “I miss you. Love, Harry.” She cherished every single one.

Some time after Halloween, she and Hermione were pulling together their ingredients in potions class. They were dividing the work between them when there was a knock at the door. Ginny didn’t think anything of it, until she heard Professor McGonnagall’s voice calling them.

“Excuse me, Professor Slughorn, I need Miss Weasley and Miss Granger,” she said, and though she didn’t sound distressed, Ginny recognized the expression. Ginny felt all the blood drain from her face and all the breath leave her body. Professor McGonagall had bad news; she’d seen this play out countless times last year, as news of missing parents and siblings came to the school. Ginny reached out and clutched Hermione’s hand. “Come with me, please.”

Ginny gathered her things numbly, fumbling her bag in her hurry. She and Hermione followed Professor McGonnagall out of the classroom and up the staircase in painful silence. It wasn’t until they reached the Headmistress’s office that Hermione spoke up. Ginny didn’t think her voice would work, even if she had the courage to ask.

“Professor, what is it?”

McGonagall turned to face them, expression strained. “I’ve had an owl from Minister Shakelbolt. There’s been an incident with a team of aurors…”

Ginny felt clammy, cold and hot all at once. “Is it Harry? Ron?” Her voice sounded far away.

“I am unsure the extent, but it was requested that you both be at St. Mungo’s immediately.” McGonnagall reached for a pot of floo powder on her desk and held it out to them. “You are both excused from lessons the rest of the day, and for as long as necessary. I’ll have your trunks sent to the Burrow. Your mother is already at St. Mungo’s; she knows you’re coming.”

Hermione reached for the pot first, Ginny close behind, suddenly unable to move fast enough. She followed Hermione through the floo and came out in the reception area of the hospital. Hermione was already making her way to the reception desk, when Ginny saw her dad round the corner.

“Dad!”

He looked relieved to see them and beckoned them both to follow.

“McGonagall didn’t know who-” Hermione said.

“Ron is fine, minor injuries. He’s being patched up now.”

The brief relief Ginny felt was immediately overshadowed. If Ron was fine, that meant Harry…

“What’s wrong with Harry?”

They rounded a corner and Ginny saw her mother, looking worried and pacing outside a door.

“Mum!” Ginny rushed forward to meet her and was pulled into a fierce hug. “What’s going on?”

“They’re still working on him,” her mother said, pulling back to look at her. “It was just supposed to be routine scouting, but they were ambushed. Two other aurors with them were injured as well, but Harry-”

“Is he going to be okay?” Ginny whispered..

“They don’t know,” was the watery response. Her mother looked up to meet her father’s gaze, sharing a look between them. Fear squeezed at Ginny’s heart, and she felt tears spring to her eyes. She fell forward into her mother’s shoulders and began to cry.

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione asked in a hollow voice.

“Here.” Ginny whipped around to see Ron behind them, bandaged heavily but otherwise fine. Hermione rushed forward and he caught her up in his arms.

“Are you okay?” Ron only nodded. “How long before we know anything about Harry?”

No one had the answer to that, and so they sat outside the door and waited. It felt like hours had passed before a healer came out to speak to them. They all stood at once.

“He’s made it through the worst of it,” said the healer, an older woman with dark hair. Ginny felt relief seep into her bones and she sank into a chair. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but it looks promising. He’ll probably still be out of it for another day or two. More than four and we’ll start worrying again, but you can go in and see him now.”

Ginny was on her feet in an instant, and pushing the door open, startling the team of healers still in the room. She made a beeline straight to Harry, who looked pale against the sheets of the bed. She pushed away the memories of seeing him, apparently dead in Hagrid’s arms. He’s fine, he’s here, he’ll be fine. There was a sticky salve covering one side of his neck, and a different one on his chest, but his hands looked clear, so she grabbed one and didn’t let go. His hand was limp, but still had a warm and reassuring weight to it.

Ginny didn’t know how long she stood there staring at him, but eventually she felt a hand on her shoulder, guiding her into a chair someone had placed behind her. She sat, but never looked away. Eventually, her eyes began to blink closed and she let her head rest on the bed next to Harry.

She woke the next morning from a gentle shake to her shoulder. Blearily she opened her eyes and turned to see her mother holding out a pastry and a cup of tea for her. She blinked, then turned to see Harry still asleep, breathing steadily. Ginny turned back toward her mother, took a deep breath and whispered a hoarse thank you as she accepted the food and drink.

“Has anyone else been in?” she asked her mother. Ginny watched as she moved opposite, brushing some of the fringe off Harry’s face as she sat.

“Bill and Fleur stopped in earlier to drop off some food,” said her mother before she sipped her own tea. “Ron and Hermione went home to update George and write to the others. They said they’d come back before lunch.”

“Where’s dad?”

“At work. And he sent an owl to Professor McGonagall.”

Ginny nodded and then was silent. She took a bite of her pastry but hardly tasted it. She knew it was extremely likely that Harry would be fine, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. She slumped lower in her chair staring absently at the wall opposite, grateful that her mother wasn’t feeling talkative either.

The day was quiet. Harry slept. Ginny only left to find food and use the bathroom. Her mother was a constant presence, and others filtered in and out to check in. Ginny refused to go home, not because she was worried, but because she didn’t want to miss him waking up. That next night she moved to the little couch that was in the room to sleep. It wasn’t much more comfortable than hunched over Harry’s bed, but at least she could stretch out.

The following day passed much the same, with the exception of Ron and Hermione also sitting with her for most of the day. Ron brought his chess set and he and Ginny played while Hermione revised for exams. Ron helped her through some quidditch plays when they tired of chess.

Still Harry slept. And Ginny was left alone with her thoughts. Wondering if this was a look at her future, how many more nights and days would she spend worrying over his hospital bed?

On the third day, when Harry still hadn’t stirred, healers were in and out all day, running their wands up and down his body, but they wouldn’t tell Ginny what they were looking for. She began to worry that something was wrong, and remembered that the first healer they saw had said something about what would happen if Harry still wasn’t awake after several days.

Her mother made her go home that night to sleep in a real bed, and shower, but she didn’t sleep any better. She was up at dawn the next morning and at St. Mungo’s within thirty minutes of climbing out of bed. Harry was still asleep and hadn’t moved position, and Ginny’s heart fell.

She curled herself in the chair next to his bed and let the tears she’d been holding back since yesterday fall. The feeling in her chest was ten times worse than what she’d felt in May, when she saw Hagrid carrying him out of the forest.

All morning, she watched the rise and fall of his chest, willing his eyes to open so she could see the green, bask in their warmth as he told her he loved her….

At some point Ron and Hermione came in, but the spoke quietly and she didn’t acknowledge them with more than a quick look before moving her eyes back to Harry. Eventually her lack of sleep caught up with her and she felt her eyes droop, but she wouldn’t let herself sleep. She closed her eyes, resting her head on her arms, listening to the soft sounds of Harry’s breathing.

Suddenly, she heard the voice she most wished to hear.  
“You shouldn’t have to see me like this.” The words came out in a raspy whisper, but it was his voice. Her head snapped around to see Harry watching her, a grimace of pain stretched across his face.

“Harry,” she breathed, moving quickly toward him. She grabbed his hand and clutched it tightly between both of hers. “I was so worried.” She was practically shaking.

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” he repeated, closing his eyes against the pain as he breathed.

“What hurts?” she asked, and gently ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, seeming to lean into her hand, and she smiled. “I’ll go find the healer.”

“No!” He twisted his hand to grab hers before she could move and opened his eyes to look at her. “No, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Harry…” she said. Her shoulders slumped. “I should still get the healer.” But she handed him his glasses anyway, still holding his hand tightly in hers. She shifted forward to kiss his forehead.

“Why aren’t you at school?”

Ginny couldn’t disguise the look of exasperation on her face, but she was so relieved he was awake she couldn’t hide the waiver in her voice. “Professor McGonnagall gave us permission to leave. We didn’t think…” she swallowed, unable to continue lest she start crying again.

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this.” He sounded pained and he searched her face, for what she didn’t know.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“So stop getting injured,” she said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, a cheeky expression that normally made him smile with affectionate exasperation.

Harry shifted painfully to sit up, and Ginny moved to help him prop up the pillows behind him. “Gin, please, just listen.”

“This isn’t an argument, Harry.” She couldn’t disguise the annoyance this time, and thought she knew where Harry was trying to go with this..

Harry sighed and adjusted himself again, wincing. He looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes at the bright light. When he opened them again, Ginny was staring at him, arms crossed, waiting to see if he was actually going to say what she thought he was going to. Anger flared in her chest; she thought they were over this, his stupid, noble desire to protect her.

“I don’t like putting you through this. This won’t be the last time. My job is dangerous. A lot of very bad people still hate me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she asked him incredulously. “Most of them hate me too.”

“Never as much as they hate me. And it still makes you a target.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Not this again,” she muttered and dropped her head to her hand, breathing deeply in an attempt to rein in her temper. Harry had the most stubborn noble streak of anyone she knew, and she knew it wasn’t easy for him to let go of it. When she looked up at him, all her patience disappeared at the pleading expression on his face, and she forgot her reasonable arguments. “Are you really doing this again? Do you remember what I said that day by the lake? ‘What if I don’t care?’ And again this summer! I know the risks, Harry, and they’re worth it. I don’t even see them as risks!”

“Ginny, please, just listen.”

“To what?” she asked loudly, unable to control her volume. “To hear you say again that you care about me too much to make me a target? That we shouldn’t be together because you might die? I’ve heard all that before.”

He was clearly thinking through something, and it wasn’t until he opened his mouth to say something, that she realized she didn’t want to hear it.

“No, don’t,” she said, voice wavering, heart in her throat. “I can’t hear it, I don’t want to. I thought it was clear that I don’t care about any of that - I thought I’d been clear that I care about you too much to want to let any of that get in between us.” She paused to swipe at her eyes, a painful twisting in her chest, hating the next words that came out of her mouth, but unable to think of anything else to say. “If you still haven’t figured that out, then maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t be together, at least not until you get your head out of your arse long enough to see what’s right in front of you, instead of worrying about all the what-ifs and maybes.”

Her chest was heaving, and that painful ache in her chest grew as she looked at him through her tears, willing him to say something, to contradict her. To profess his love and desire to never be apart from her again. The longer the silence stretched on the more it hurt, and then she couldn’t take it anymore. She spun on her heel and left, feeling like her entire world had just crumbled around her again.

“Insufferable, noble idiot,” Ginny muttered through clenched teeth as she rounded a corner, swiping at her eyes.

“Ginny! Is Harry awake?” It was Hermione and Ron, coming toward her from the cantine.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I’m going home.”

“Ginny, what-”

“It’s nothing,” she said, wiping her cheeks again. She didn’t want to talk about it. “Harry can explain. I’ll see you back at school, Hermione.”

She moved past them, ignoring their calls, and to the lift that would take her back to the floos. Her mother was waiting by the fireplace.

“Ginny? What’s wrong?” Ginny must have looked horrible because her mother gasped and tears sprang to her eyes. “Harry -”

“No, no no, Mum, he’s fine. He’s awake.” Her mum visibly relaxed.

“Then what’s the matter? You look afright.”

The tears she’d been holding back since leaving Hermione and Ron, came back with a vengeance. “Harry’s an idiot.”

“Oh, dear, come here.” Her mother led her to sit on the couch and Ginny buried her face in her mum’s shoulder as her arms enveloped her in a warm, comforting embrace. “Tell me what happened.”

“He’s just an idiot! He keeps trying to push me away, says I shouldn’t have to see him like that, that I’m still a target because I’m involved with him, never mind the fact that I led a bloody teenage resistance, and have made plenty of enemies in my own right.

“He can’t get past it and I’m not even sure he wants to.” They’d had the conversation so many times, and it was exhausting.  
Her mum was swaying side to side, like she used to when they were young children. Ginny sniffled. “I told him that maybe we shouldn’t be together,” she whispered, the horror at what she might have thrown away crawling up her spine, chilling her from the inside. “And then I left! He nearly dies and I practically break up with him!”

She sobbed into her mother’s shoulder for some time, but her mum didn’t say anything until Ginny’s tears finally slowed.

“It’s probably not as bad as you think it is, Ginny.”

“He didn’t even say anything. I waited for him to say something, anything, hoping he might tell me that’s not what he wanted. But he didn’t say a word. What am I supposed to think?”

Her mother brushed the hair off her forehead and looked into her eyes. “That boy cares about you, Ginny. I know he does. You know it, too. But he has lost so much. He’s afraid to lose you.”

“He’s going to lose me anyway if he doesn’t get his head out of his arse. How is not being together any better than-than one of us dying?”

“I think Harry can probably give you a better answer than I can,” her mum said gently. “But sometimes it’s easier to watch the ones you love have a good life when you feel like you’re the reason they would have a bad one, or no life at all.”

That sounded like the self-sacrificing shite Harry would think. But a life without Harry sounded miserable. Ginny didn’t want a life without Harry, no matter how fraught with worry a life with him would be. It was worth it. Harry was worth it.

“So what do I do?” Ginny asked her mother, desperate for answers, for a way to fix it. “How do I make him understand?” She couldn’t lose him, not now. They’d just finally figured things out. Or she thought they had.

Molly cupped her head in both hands. “I don’t know if you can, sweetheart. It’s something he needs to realize for himself.”

Ginny’s breath caught and she closed her eyes. Deep down she knew this was something she had been dreading since August - what if Harry couldn’t get over his own fears?

“But,” her mother continued. “You can be patient. You can show him how much you still care.”

Ginny nodded, but her heart sank further. How did she do that through letters from school? It was still a month till Christmas holidays.

Feeling more than a little forlorn, she trudged up the stairs to retrieve her trunk to head back to school.

Hermione returned to school later that afternoon, reporting that Harry was up and moving and that the healers thought he’d be able to go home in a few days. After dinner, she tried to get Ginny to talk about what happened because apparently Harry wouldn’t say anything to her or Ron. Ginny refused to say anything until she’d had time to process it herself.

“Just tell me one thing, then,” Hermione pleaded. “Are you still together?”

Ginny felt tears spring to her eyes again, and around the lump in her throat she said, “I’m not sure, Hermione.”

Hermione looked shocked but she pulled Ginny into a hug anyway and whispered, “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

Ginny nodded and let her tears fall. “Thanks.”

***

 **December**  
Through Ron’s letters to Hermione, Ginny learned that Harry was released from the hospital a few days after waking up. She had hoped he’d send her a letter, but a week a week went by, and then two without a line from him. Ginny told herself she wasn’t waiting for Harry to be the one to write first, and she tried not to be hurt by it. But she wasn’t writing either. Or she was, but she never sent the letters. She wrote one to him nearly every day, but they all went into her trunk. She hated not talking to him, but she was trying to take her mother’s advice and let him figure it out for himself.

She’d finally told Hermione the whole story midway through December as they got ready for bed after a long night of studying. Hermione had told her to just write to him and explain how she felt, because “Harry’s a bit of an idiot when it comes to this sort of thing.”

To which Ginny rolled her eyes. “I know, Hermione, that’s why I’m not writing.”

Hermione looked at her, confused and incredulous. “Why are you making it so much harder for the both of you?”

“He needs to figure this out for himself. He needs to figure out if he really wants to be with me, what-ifs and all.”

“How is he supposed to do that if he doesn’t understand how you feel?”

Ginny’s traitorous eyes filled with tears again. “He knows how I feel, Hermione. I’ve been very clear with him that I don’t care about any of that. I never have. And if things had been different last year - if I’d been a year older -”

She stopped, breathing heavily, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Ginny…”

Ginny shook her head, and reached in her trunk for one of her old handkerchiefs to wipe her eyes. She dabbed at her nose and sat down on her bed. “It’s fine, Hermione. I’d rather find out now that he can’t handle a relationship than fight with him for years about it, and then try to break up after I’m too deeply invested in it. This’ll save me a lot of heartache.”

Hermione looked at her sadly as she sat next to her on the bed. “But you’re already invested,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. Ginny nodded and then felt her face crumple again as she succumbed to more tears.

“I don’t know how to get over him. I don’t think I ever could.”

“I know,” Hermione said rubbing Ginny’s arm comfortingly.

“I tried, you know,” Ginny went on, sniffling. “Back during the Triwizard, and then I started dating Michael, and then Dean, and I thought I’d be okay if he never liked me back.” Ginny took a deep breath and looked up at her friend. “But he was always there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t realize it right away, not till me and Dean were almost through. And then suddenly he was there all the time, not just in my head, but there there. Not really any more than he usually was, but I just...was more aware of him, I guess, like I wasn’t before. Which was weird because he used to be nearly all I could think about, remember?”

“I do,” Hermione said with a smile.

Ginny sighed. “When Dean and I finally broke it off, I thought for sure he’d make a move. He was so obvious.”

Hermione laughed. “He was, wasn’t he? But why didn’t you say something to him?”

Ginny shrugged. “I was afraid, I guess. What if I was wrong?”

“Well, you got there in the end, I suppose.”

“Did we, though? Is this all we were meant to be - just a few blissful weeks at school, followed by a year of separation and then...whatever this is?”

“I don’t think this is the end, Ginny. I know Harry’s an idiot sometimes, but he’ll figure it out. I know he cares about you.”

Ginny couldn’t help the snort that she made.

“He does Ginny. He wouldn’t be pushing you away if he didn’t. He tried to do it with me and Ron, too, but we didn’t let him, and you shouldn’t either!”

Ginny felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. “I’ve tried Hermione,” she said as she kicked off her slippers and lay down.

“Maybe you need to try harder.”

“Maybe Harry needs to try harder.”

“Maybe you both do,” Hermione said pointedly as she stood. “Relationships aren’t easy, and Harry’s hard to deal with sometimes, but you’re both miserable.”

“How do you know Harry’s miserable? Is he writing to you?” Ginny shot up, annoyed. If Harry could write to Hermione, he could write to her.

“No, but Ron is, and Ron says - and these are his words not mine - he’s all mopey.”

A small flicker of hope came to life in Ginny’s chest. “Mopey?”

Maybe it wasn’t so hopeless after all, she thought. She said goodnight and then closed her curtains. They were leaving in a few days for Christmas holidays; she’d see Harry then.

***

 **Two days before Christmas**  
Harry wasn’t on the platform when she and Hermione got off the train. Ginny had hoped he would be, because that’s what he had promised back in September when he saw her off, but realistically, after more than three weeks of silence between them, she shouldn't have been surprised.

It still stung though.

But Ron was there, and explained that Harry had been pulled out to follow some leads on some case one of the senior aurors was working on, but he’d be back in a few days. Ginny nodded and then gripped her trunk tightly in one hand before apparating home.

Ginny tried to throw herself into decorating for Christmas like she normally did, but her thoughts were vacillating between worry about Harry and wondering when he’d be home and if he’d come to see her when he got back, and missing Fred so much she couldn’t breathe. The house was so much emptier than it had been during the summer, with Ron and Harry moved out, and Charlie back to Romania. Percy didn’t stop by as much, nor did Bill and Fleur. George was busy with the holiday rush at the shop.

Ginny and her parents were just sitting down for a cup of tea after dinner one evening when they heard the door open. Seventeen years of living in this house meant she was as familiar with its sounds and those of its inhabitants than she was with the back of her own hand. Ginny’s heart jumped, and her stomach felt like a group of pixies had taken up residence. She knew at once, from the sound of the feet on the mat and the way the door closed behind them, that it was not one of her brothers.

“Harry!” said her mother pleasantly, and Ginny resisted the urge to turn and look at him, instead tightening her grip on her mug. “Ron said you were expected back today.” No one had told Ginny that, and she felt a flare of annoyance. She would have appreciated knowing when to expect Harry. “We were so glad to hear you wouldn’t be missing Christmas. Are you hungry, dear?”

“Er-” she heard Harry say, and then before he could say anything else her mother was already up and bustling around to pull together a plate for him.

“Sit, I’ll pull something together. You just missed dinner.”

Ginny saw Harry hesitate out of the corner of her eye and wondered what he’d do. Normally he’d sit right next to Ginny but she wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to. She felt his eyes on her, but she didn’t look up from her mug.

Her dad cleared his throat and rose from the table. “Molly, you wanted to listen to that program on the wireless? I’ll go tune in.” Harry still hadn’t moved as her dad walked past him and into the living room.

Her mother put his plate in front of the seat next to Ginny before grabbing her tea and moving toward the living room as well. Well, that decides that, then.

“Eat up dear,” her mother said. “It’s good to see you.”

And then they were alone.

Ginny still hadn’t looked at him, and Harry was still standing stupidly in the doorway. Slowly, he made his way to the table and sat down. Ginny felt hyper aware of how close their bodies were. She caught the scent of his soap and realized he must have come straight from the shower.

Harry took a few bites of food in silence before pushing his food away and turning toward her.

“Can we talk?” he asked her quietly. She finally turned to look at him. He looked much better than he had the day she left him in the hospital. There was color in his cheeks, and an earnestness in his expression that wasn’t there that day. She felt a small flicker of hope, but didn’t let it grow.

“That depends on what you’re going to say,” she said archly.

“I want to apologize.”

“For what, exactly?” She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, but his answer surprised her - she’d been expecting a bit more of a fight.

“For trying to push you away. I was an idiot. And you were right.”

He looked so miserable. Ginny felt her resolve soften a little, but not completely. “What was I right about? That it’s my choice or that we shouldn’t be together until you can get your head out of your arse?”

Harry deflated a little. “Both.” He swallowed.

“And? Have you got your head out of your arse?”

“Mostly.”

Ginny’s shoulders sank, disappointed. “Harry…”

“No, no, listen,” he pleaded, and reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away. She’d missed his hands, which sounded silly, but she had.

Harry continued, “I was thinking about what you said. You told me this summer that you knew what you were getting into, being with me, but you chose it anyway, chose me.” He gripped her hand tighter. “And then last month I tried to push you away. And I know what it must have seemed like, but it wasn’t because I think you’ll be used as a way to get to me, or as a target or any of that. I know you know that it could happen, and I’m - well, not okay with it, but-”

“Harry.”

Harry bowed his head and sighed. “This isn’t coming out at all the way I was thinking it would in my head.”

“Why did you say those things in the hospital?” she asked him quietly. He lifted his head, and held her gaze as he spoke.

“Because I was an idiot. I thought if we weren’t together then you wouldn’t have to see me like that or worry as much. And it was stupid of me to think that. It’s not easier. I’ve been miserable this whole month.”

“So have I,” she said, still quiet and unable to look away. She took a shaky breath and continued. “I was thinking, too. Mostly about how much of a noble idiot you can be,” she smiled and there was a flicker of a smile on his face too. “But you’re my noble idiot. And I do get it, Harry, I do. I know it’s not easy to know what you’re putting us all through every time you get hurt. But I would rather be with you for it, than feel like I’m watching from the outside and unable to get close to you because you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t like putting you through all that.”

“I don’t think you quite get it, yet Harry,” she said, frustration flaring again. “I will still feel like that, even if we’re not together. But if you push me away it’s ten times worse. Because then I can’t be there for you like I want to be, and like I know you want me to be too, even though you think you don’t need it or deserve it.

“I love you, Harry. So much, and nothing you can do or say will ever change that.” There was a burning at the back of her throat, but her eyes were dry.

She watched as Harry swallowed, as his eyes roamed over her face again, stopping more than once at her lips, but he didn’t move and he didn’t speak.

“Do you really want to break up?” she finally asked quietly. Harry’s whole body stiffened.

“No! No, I don’t. That’s what I’ve been trying to say!” Relief washed over her. “I just… I need to-”

“Get over yourself?” Ginny asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Harry said. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?” When he nodded she went on. “Why is it different with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why is it okay for Hermione and Ron, for my parents, to see you like that, to be close enough to you that you’re okay with them taking care of you, but when it’s me…”

“I-I don’t know,” he said. “I never thought of it like that.”

Ginny looked down at their hands, unable to look him in the eye, feeling suddenly shy. “Hermione told me not to let you push me away, that you tried that with her and Ron but they wouldn’t let you and that I shouldn’t either.”

“Smart girl, that Hermione,” he said, a sad echo of himself. After a bit, he said, “I think the difference is the way I feel about you.”

She looked up at him confused.

“You scare the hell out of me, Gin,” he continued on a breath. “How I feel about you terrifies me. I would do anything for you, but my worst fear isn’t just losing you.” He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “It’s that you’ll decide one day that I’m not worth it anymore, what I put you through with all the near death experiences, and shite like what I’ve just put you through.”

“Harry… no, I would never-” her breath hitched. “So you thought - you thought you’d save yourself the pain of me rejecting you?” she asked him sadly. He nodded once. “Oh, Harry, when have I ever…?”

“I know, I know,” he said. “And you haven’t. Like you said, I need to get over myself.”

“Harry, look at me.” She leaned forward, reaching to touch his face. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not,” she smiled at him and he snorted and shook his head.

“I’m sorry for the last month,” he said. “I should have written. Ron said you were miserable, and if you felt anything like I did, I know you were. I thought about asking McGonagall if I could come up to the school but I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“I will always want to see you,” Ginny said, shifting in her chair so she could be even closer to him. “I thought about asking her if she’d let me come visit you, but I didn’t think she’d go for that, even if you are her favorite.” Ginny smiled a little and then cleared her throat. “I was remembering what we agreed on in August, about not wasting time, and we’ve both been idiots. I should have written, even when you didn’t. I was being stubborn.”

“I promise I won’t try to push you away again,” he said as he took her hand in his again.

“Better not,” she muttered, leaning into him, and then suddenly his lips were on hers, his fingers tangling in her hair, hand cradling her head so tenderly she felt like she was melting into him. Her hand moved to run through his hair, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that sent shivers up and down Ginny’s spine. She couldn’t resist crawling into his lap. He broke away, both of them a little breathless, and rested his forehead on hers. “I love you, Gin,” he whispered. “I know I don’t say it a lot, but I do.”

Ginny nodded, and said thickly, “I know,” before kissing him again.

Some time later, she heard the door open, and it vaguely registered that perhaps they should move this into a less public part of the house. At least until Ron suggested it loudly, which earned him a double finger and a “Fuck off.” He left grumbling and Harry laughed.

“Should we move?”

“Probably,” she replied. “If only because my parents are in the next room."

“What if we went to mine?” Harry asked, running his finger along the hem of her shirt.

“I haven’t seen it yet, so I’d maybe be okay with that,” she grinned back.


End file.
